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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27105679">teasing</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/specialagentrin/pseuds/specialagentrin'>specialagentrin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cameras, Cock Rings, Dom/sub Undertones, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Humor, M/M, Masturbation, Meet-Cute, Morning After, Morning Kisses, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgasm Denial, Sex, Sexual Content, Sexual Humor, Teasing, Vibrators, my sanity isnt going to be here for the next couple of fics heads up rn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:10:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,550</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27105679</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/specialagentrin/pseuds/specialagentrin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Are you - you're touching yourself, aren't you Wilbur?"</p><p>"What? N - no-" </p><p>"Don't lie, Wilbur. You’ve been moaning and whimpering like a whore since we first started." Schlatt states fimly, and fucking hell if his cock doesn’t jerk in response.</p><p>-</p><p>or, in which wilbur and schlatt become friends with benefits. </p><p>-</p><p>this is a bribe join my discord - <a href="https://discord.gg/FHAsBZ6raF">discord</a></p><p>  <a href="https://www.wattpad.com/980391916-teasing-1">wattpad version in case ao3 fails</a></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jschlatt/Wilbur Soot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>151</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1515</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>man this was 200 words. hOW THE HELL IN IRENES NAME DID IT TURN TO 1 THOUSAND + WORDS I </p><p>[No, none of my fics will be using the irl people, its their mc charatcers as streamers if anything so no irl shipping here]</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Wilbur was teasing himself with a vibator, placing it right against the head of his already leaking cock. Ever since he learned about the much more - <em> fun </em> - ways of having sexual pleasure, there was simply no way he would be vanilla ever again.</p><p><br/><br/>He was edging himself with a rose gold bullet vibrator, forcing himself to pull his hand away when he was moments away from spilling thick white streaks all over himself. Wilbur’s phone decided it was a perfectly good time to ruin his fun, blaring out an alarm at full volume.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <em> Speedrun w/ Schlatt - 9:05 pm </em>
</p><p><br/><br/>The british sighs, tries to think of weird, disgusting things to get rid of his erection - no way was he shoving ice down his pants again - when his brain lights up with an idea. Shuffling underneath his bed, he pulls out a box of toys and slides a rubber cock ring on. Wilbur shifts the vibrator in a comfortable spot, before turning it back on. He sets it to a small hum, not enough to distract him but enough to let him know it's there. Shuffling into a clean pair of sweats, he slips into his chair and plugs on his headphones, starting up minecraft.</p><p><br/><br/>“Oh, good, you're up.” Schlatt states. “You’re a few minutes late, were you busy doing something?”</p><p><br/><br/>He bites his lower lip to stop a whine from escaping, sighing deeply into the mic.</p><p><br/><br/>“Wilbur? You alright there?” There’s a tone of concern in Schlatt’s voice, and Wilbur can’t help but smile.</p><p><br/><br/>“I’m alright, Schlatt. It’s just been a long day, that’s all.”</p><p><br/><br/>“I feel you.”</p><p><br/><br/>Spreading his legs a bit more, he nearly lets a moan slip as the setting increases out of the blue as he joins Schlatt’s server. Wilbur pushes his mic further away from him, so the other player won’t hear his embarrassing noises as he teases himself through the speedrun.</p><p><br/><br/>“So…” Schlatt starts as his player runs towards a tree. “Why are we recording?”</p><p><br/><br/>“For content - I’ve been lacking it lately, and everyone seems to like it when we pair together. They think we’ve got chemistry.” Wilbur replies.</p><p><br/><br/>“Oh, we’ve definitely got chemistry, Mr.Soot.” Schlatt teases.</p><p><br/><br/>Wilbur chuckles, keeping his mouth shut as the American rambles on about a new project he’s probably going to join in the future. And then Wilbur cries in pleasure, nearly falling out of his seat when his vibrator raises to the highest setting out of the blue. He grips the edge of the table as it stays on the setting. Shaky hands reach out for his phone to turn it off when Schlatt's voice rings through clear in the call. </p><p> </p><p>"Are you - you're touching yourself, aren't you Wilbur?"</p><p> </p><p>"What? N - no-" </p><p> </p><p>"Don't lie, Wilbur. You’ve been moaning and whimpering like a whore since we first started." Schlatt states firmly, and fucking <em> hell </em> if his cock doesn’t jerk in response. A few minutes of silence, and Schlatt murmurs something along the lines of <em> I can’t believe I’m about to do this </em>. "Turn on your webcam, Wil? I want to see your pretty flushed face when you cum."</p><p><br/><br/>“Huh?” Wilbur’s in shock. “No you don’t! You’re just going to make fun of me and tweet about it later!”</p><p><br/><br/>“So you admit it, then? You are touching yourself.” He can hear Schlatt chuckle.</p><p><br/><br/>Wilbur lets out an involuntary groan when the vibrations rise again. A pink flush falls over his face, and he chews on his lips. Two can play this game, after all.</p><p><br/><br/>Pulling his mic close to his lips, he slides his hand down his sweats and rubs the thumb of his finger over his leaking cock. A soft whine comes out, excitement flaring in him when he hears Schlatt breath hitch. “What if I am?”</p><p><br/><br/>“Oh...you bad, bad boy.” Schlatt tries, and Wilbur hums in response. “Touching yourself without permission now?”</p><p><br/><br/>“What if I am?” He repeats. “Are you going to order me around? Tell me otherwise? Make me your baby boy?”</p><p><br/><br/>Silence. “Are you sure you want to do this, Wil? Once we do this, there’s no going back.”</p><p><br/><br/>“I know, Schlatt. The choice is yours. You can make me yours for right now, or we could forget about this. And I could find someone else to take care of me.” The british can just imagine the american’s eyes lighting up in anger, hands clenched into fists, tongue running over his lips and hand sliding through his hair. Probably spin around his chair a few times, or pull out his gun. Wilbur snaps out of his illusion when he hears a keyboard being smashed in the background, and he makes a noise of confusion.</p><p><br/><br/>“No, no. You’re not going to do that, pretty boy. Can you call me over discord and turn on your camera?” He says softly, and yet it’s like an order. Wilbur is quick to adjust the position of his camera, so that his upper body and hard-on are in full view, before switching the camera on. Another moment of silence. “You look beautiful, baby. Can I call you baby?”</p><p><br/><br/>“Yes, Schlatt.” Wilbur’s looks at him from underneath his eyelids - cliche move, yes - but he can hear the hum of approval from the other man. “Is there anything else you wanted me to do?”</p><p><br/><br/>“Take off everything you're wearing from the waist down.” He commands, and Wilbur complies without another word. Hooks his fingers through the bands of his sweats, shrugging it down slowly. His cock flies free and slaps against his stomach with a wet <em> smack </em>! He looks back at his second monitor to see that Schlatt’s turned his camera, dark eyes memorizing every last inch of his body to memory. “God...don’t tell me that’s a vibator and a cock ring.”</p><p><br/><br/>“It is.” He grins, slipping the vibator snuggly besides the cock ring. “I haven’t cum in...two hours, now?”</p><p><br/><br/>“You’re so cocky.”</p><p><br/><br/>“Oh hush, you know you love it.”</p><p><br/><br/>“Mhm. Can’t disagree there.”</p><p><br/><br/>Another high pitch moan escapes Wilbur, and Schlatt scoots his chair a bit closer, leaning back to watch the show.</p><p><br/><br/>"Now, we're going to finish this speedrun and only then can you cum, Wilbur." He states simply. “No touching yourself, no taking off the camera, no turning off the vibrator, no teasing yourself either - unless I say so.” </p><p> </p><p>"Schlatt, I can't hold off for that long -" </p><p> </p><p>"You will hold off, or I'm hoping on the next flight to Queen Elizabeth's saint land and punishing you." Wilbur watches as Schlatt’s minecraft character runs along to another tree.</p><p><br/><br/>Wilbur is hesitant at first - but the anticipation, the fear of getting caught when he does, the overall <em>thrill</em> of it all - its too much. "Fine. I accept, Father." </p><p> </p><p>"Oh, you're going to be calling me Daddy before we kill the Ender Dragon." Schlatt promises.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Don’t. You know better than to argue with me, Wil.” </p><p>Wilbur groans, feeling his balls draw up and rutts into Schlatt’s hand. “Please, Schlatt. Please - I need this, I need this so badly, I’ll do anything -” </p><p>“Anything?” A smirk grows wide on the American’s face, drawing his hand away. </p><p>The other man makes a pathetic whine. “Yes, Schlatt, anything.”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I DID IT I DID IT I DID IT I DID IT I DID IT I DID IT I DID IT I DID IT I DID IT I DID IT I DID IT I DID IT KASHOOT ME</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Wilbur got caught. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Well… on purpose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>He wanted to hear what Schlatt wanted to do to him. Shivered in pleasure when he heard the slight growl of his tone, the way it went a few pitches deeper just for him. Fingernails digged into the hardwood desk as he managed to make himself cum a second time from just his voice. Left the voice chat with the promise that Wilbur would be on his knees begging if they ever met in person. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>The next morning, Schlatt woke up to a few dm’s on discord, eyes flashing in excitement when he saw one from Wilbur. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>wilbursoot: how about you come to my country and fulfill your promise? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>schlatt: oh, i will. two weeks from now, how does that sound? we can work out the details in vc later</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>wilbursoot: im free two weeks from now. see you then ; )</span>
  </em>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Of course, they don’t have sex the moment Schlatt walks out the plane. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Although, it would have been a pretty interesting twitter hashtag. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wilbur goes out of his way to find a fresh batch of an assortment of poppies before he heads to the airport with a bounce in his step. He looked around the quiet terminal, it was nine in the night after all. Rush hour had already ended. He was looking out of place here, jittery and jumpy - with a few people waiting for their nighttime flight to arrive. The musician attempted to take a seat, but it only led to him jumping out of it every other minute. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The occasional rolling off suitcase wheels making his head turn to the noise like a dog to it’s whistle wasn’t helping either. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Where the fuck could he be? His flight landed over a half n’ hour ago, there was no way it took the airport that long to escort passengers off the flight. Slumping down in his seat, he pulled out his phone and opened up Discord. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>wilbursoot: niki</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>wilbursoot: nikiiiiiiiii</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>wilbursoot: nikiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>wilbursoot: nihachu niki if you dont answer im telling minx you like her</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few minutes pass, and he considers messaging Tubbo since he’s still up according to his icon - a grin forming on his face when he sees Niki messaging him back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>nihachu: no!!!!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>nihachu: wil</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>nihachu: no</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>nihachu: u wouldn’t DARE</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>wilbursoot: hmmm, there’s a possibility. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>nihachu: why are you so mean to me wil :(</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>wilbursoot: oh no did i make you sad</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>nihachu: u did</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>wilbursoot: please dont be sad niki i dont like it when your sad jknrtwoe</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then firm hands gripped his shoulders tightly, making him yelp in shock and drop his phone onto the floor. He turns around to see the playful expression on Schlatt’s face, looking down at Wilbur happily. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You little bitch.” Wilbur states, snatching his phone to check for any damage. When there isn’t any, he sends Niki a quick message. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>wilbursoot: schlatt finally got here, ttyl, ily </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who are you messaging?” He questions, peering over his shoulder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>nihachu: ily2 wil</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wilbur tilts his screen towards him, showing off his conversation with Niki. “Do you remember Nihachu?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“The girl who won you on the Rajjechlor?” He states, eyes scanning the conversation. “Ohohoho, she’s got a crush on Minx?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Please don’t tell her. She asked for me to keep it a secret, she isn’t ready for her to find out.” The taller boy says. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I won’t! But I will not be passing the opportunity to tease Minx about the fact someone’s got a crush on her.” Schlatt chuckles, nodding his head towards the flowers. “Are those for me?” </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>A faint blush appears on Wilbur’s face as he hands over the poppies to Schlatt. “Yeah, they are.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Schlatt takes a moment to admire the flowers, looking at its beauty. He smiles, looking up at Wilbur with genuine affection. “I want to hate these so badly and crush them in front of your face, but I truly can’t seem to bring myself to do it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Good.” Wilbur chuckles. “Whenever I spend money, it’s normally not for useless reasons.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Schlatt’s reaches down to grab the handlebar of his suitcase, arm wrapping itself around Wilbur’s waist. “Ready for your punishment, sweetheart?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>The taller boy blushes even darker, adjusting the beanie on his head. He can feel the warmth of Schlatt’s hand through his clothing, giving him comfort and putting him at ease. Wilbur gives a soft hum in reply, grabbing Schlatt’s other suitcase. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good boy.” Schlatt says. “You and I are going to have so much fun the next three weeks.” </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once they arrive home, he shows the guest room that Schlatt will be in for the next fourteen days, leaving him to get set up by himself. Wilbur turns on his computer, logging onto twitch and sending out a tweet that he’ll be streaming shortly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you normally stream this late?” Schlatt questions, leaning against the doorframe. He watches Wilbur’s clock light up at the sound of his voice. The two hands are always at some set to a random time - whether to confuse his viewers or let Wilbur know when to end his stream - he can never tell. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Most of my viewers are American, Schlatt. It’s only about 5 pm or earlier in their time.” Wilbur replies. “So… I have to stay up later to get more viewers.” </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The struggles of being a twitch streamer and having that as one of your only sources of income, am I right?” Schlatt sighs. He shuffles into the room, wrapping his arms around him and resting his head on Wilbur’s shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“It’s definitely a struggle, alright.” Wilbur’s mouse hovers over the camera, head knocking into Schlatt’s. “Do you want everyone else to know you’re here today?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Schlatt thinks for a moment, mouth turning into a frown. “Nah, I just want some time to ourselves right now. How about next week? I’ve always wanted to visit the big tower in London.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“You want to go and attend some casual sightseeing?” The musician questions, and the American hums in agreement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“I wouldn’t mind going to some famous tourist hotspots. I want to see what makes Wilbur Soot - well - Wilbur Soot.” One of Schlatt’s hand slowly wanders down his chest, making him shiver in excitement. “That, and the fact I want to see you on your knees like a good boy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“N-now?” Wilbur stammers out. Schlatt moves away from him for a moment, getting on his knees himself to pull out Wilbur’s kinky box - filled with a nice array and selection of different toy’s he uses to play with himself. He grabs a watch box, opening it up to find different cock ring sizes and colors, pulling out a simple black one. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He perches his head back onto Wilbur’s shoulder, showing off the sex toy in visible view. “You thinking what I’m thinking?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“You can’t be serious!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Oh pretty boy, I sure am.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“But what if they hear me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Schlatt chuckles. “So you’re considering it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Schlatt!” Wilbur groans. “I’m being serious here!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“And so am I.” His voice becomes darker, demanding. “Do you want me to edge you, while you're playing minecraft, in front of thousands of people? Let me slowly stroke your cock while you're trying to talk to your viewers, clueless to what’s going on behind the screen? Watch you squirm underneath my touch, becoming harder and harder to hide those beautiful sounds your voice makes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Wilbur’s mouse moves away from the camera button. “Fine, but I can’t do it with the camera on. It’s too risky.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Eh, doesn’t bother me.” Schlatt replies. His fingers slowly unbutton his jeans, pulling down the zipper, thumb tracing the outline of Wilbur’s cock in his boxers. There’s already a small damp spot in the </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good evening everybody. Um...my camera broke by accident.” Wilbur lets out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, um, I was reorganizing my room, y’know, a bit of late cleaning since I was going to have a friend come over, and my elbow hit the camera while I was cleaning the screen and the entire lens shattered.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He focuses on reading the chat, biting his lip when he feels his cock fly free from it’s cage. It slaps against his shirt, standing up proudly. Schlatt hums happily, sliding the cock ring on and down to the base of his cock. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“When will I get a new one? I -” Wilbur bites his tongue hard when the American flicks the head of his cock. Precum splurts out of it and stains his pants, making Schlatt snicker. “I’m not sure.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Another flick to the head of his cock. “I mean it’ll be here shortly! Yep! I placed an order for a new one. Same camera quality, though.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Schlatt gives him a few slow strokes, before pulling away. He taps his shoulder, and Wilbur puts himself on mute for a moment. “What’s wrong?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Out of your seat, now.” Schlatt states, and Wilbur gives him a confused look. “I won’t repeat myself, baby.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Wilbur stands up awkwardly on shaky legs then, cock pressing against the edge of his desk. Schlatt takes a seat in his chair, before warm hands grip his waist tightly and pull him back into his lap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Schlatt…?” Wilbur wiggles a bit in his lap, suddenly stopping when he feels something hard slide inbetween his asscheeks. He does away with his pants, tossing it aside before gripping the desk tightly and grinding back into Schlatt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Holy fuck Wil, your so hot like this.” Schlatt’s wraps an arm tightly around his waist, using his feet to pull the chair closer. He wastes no time, hand doing slow, steady strokes, grinning into his back when Wilbur reacts with a violent shiver and a high pitched moan. “You make such pretty noises, sweetheart.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Shut - shut up.” The musician pulls his keyboard closer to him, pushing the mic farther away. Unmuting his mic, he tries to hide a moan with a half-assed laugh. “Sorry about that, someone just called me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>He opens up Minecraft, ignoring the few comments that tell him his mic quality is bad. Pursing his lips, he decides what to do for the night, before eventually opening up bedwars. “I’m just going to do a few rounds of this, alright chat?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s hard to pay attention to the game while Schlatt is busy finding out what makes him scream. Small scrapes on his skin with dull fingernails, fiddling with his balls, pulling at his nipples. At this point, he’s probably sucked out all the blood from his lips at how hard he’s bitten them from holding back moans that would end up terminating his relationship with twitch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Reading out a dono, Schlatt decides to gently squeeze his balls and Wilbur yelps, spine straightening. The American has to cover his mouth before his laughing is heard, finding amusement in Wilbur’s torture. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Wilbur can feel himself pull closer and closer to the edge with every tug on his cock, legs squeezing shut and stuttering on every other word. Even the chat was concerned for him, asking if he wanted to end the stream early. But he kindly declined, the risk of getting caught being a whore behind the camera in front of almost five thousand people now driving his mind wild. He presses the keys with shaky, frantic fingers, making keening sounds of want. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Schlatt, on the other hand, was only planning on giving the touches to Britain so badly desired through teasing his dick. But the position he was in was starting to become uncomfortable, and he wanted to see what Wilbur was doing without his back blocking the view. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Fingers tap his waist, and Wilbur puts his mic on mute to give Schlatt a questionable look. “What is it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Get up, sweetheart? I want to try something.” Schlatt says, and the taller man complies with confusion in his eyes. He adjusts himself so that his back leans against the wooden desk and legs slide through the opening where the armrest connects with the backpiece of the chair. He pats his lap, and Wilbur is eager to scramble on and sit down. They’re in a cradle position, with his hard on pushing up againist’s Schlatt’s own erection. “There, much better.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wilbur blushes a deep red, rolling his eyes. He unmutes his mic and goes back to playing bedwars, successfully knocking off eight of the other players in a span of two minutes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“T - there we go, chat. I still got it.” Wilbur says, before quickly burying his face into his shoulder to stifle a moan. Schlatt’s busy marking up what belongs to him, scattering little kisses and nips all over his shoulders and neck. “I’m halfway distracted by...someone else at the m-moment, so if I lose, it’s their fault.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>The American hums against his neck, his left hand stroking Wilbur’s quivering thighs as he became much more jumpy and sensitive to his touch. At this angle, he has a perfect view of long eyelashes fluttering closed, tongue swiping over slightly cracked lips that form into a perfect O-shape when he successfully manages to get a moan out of him. Watches Wilbur’s eyebrows knitted together in concentration before falling apart when his thumb swipes over the head of his cock.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Schlatt-” It comes out as a faint whisper as he boards himself inside of an empty enemy base, putting himself on mute again. He leans back a bit, gripping Schlatt’s shoulder tightly, looking down at him with desire and need. “I need to cum - fuck - Schlatt, I need to cum!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Schlatt makes a sound of disapproval. “Oh Wilbur, don’t tell me you forgot? This is your punishment for not listening to me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“No - Schlatt - come on -” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Don’t. You know better than to argue with me, Wil.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Wilbur groans, feeling his balls draw up and rutts into Schlatt’s hand. “Please, Schlatt. Please - I need this, I need this so badly, I’ll do anything -” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Anything?” A smirk grows wide on the American’s face, drawing his hand away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The other man makes a pathetic whine. “Yes, Schlatt, anything.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“You’re only getting sex from me. I don’t care if you want to hook up with some fucking pretty singer lady or the damn old ass queen herself, I want you to be in a sexual relationship with me and me alone.” He states. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Really? The Queen would be such a good lay, there’s no way I would want to pass up an opportunity like that.” Wilbur jokes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“God, why would you put that image in my head? You just totally killed the mood!” Schlatt groans, making Wilbur laugh. “Remind me to fuck your snarky attitude out of you this week.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Oh, I’m looking forward to it.” The musician says as Schlatt pushes a leg between Wilbur’s thighs. “So...where was I?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“I think you’re begging to paint yourself in your own cum like the whore you are?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Can I, Schlatt?” He shifts his hips so that his cock can get some friction on Schlatt’s legs, looking at him through thick eyelashes. “Can I cum? Please? I’ll be so good to you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Mhm. But don’t think this means I won’t punish you later.” Schlatt presses a kiss against his pulse. His eyes linger on the other man’s lips, wanting to taste, but decides against it. “Come on, Wilbur, use my leg to get yourself off. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bitch</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>He whimpers, beginning to rutt his cock against Schlatt’s thigh, but he’s quickly stopped. “Not like that, Wilbur. I want your mic on, you have a game to finish and a stream to attend to after all.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Finger’s slide the cock ring off as Wilbur unmutes his mic. “S-sorry chat. I’m uh - I - I’ve been having bad issues. I think I’m just going to end the stream after this round.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>His fingers keep pressing on the wrong keys as he tries to navigate his character carefully to the enemy's territory, while grinding his hips down into Schlatt’s thigh. From the way his voice is going higher and his movements become much sloppier, he knows that Wilbur isn’t going to last much longer. Schlatt gives a helping hand, giving him a few quick strokes and Wilbur </span>
  <em>
    <span>screams</span>
  </em>
  <span>, hand slamming on the keyboard as his character falls off the edge and his mic is thankfully shut off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>His eyes squeeze shut, muscles becoming tense as his hands latch onto Schlatt’s chest, dull fingernails digging into his shirt. Schlatt jerks him through it until Wilbur is milked dry, the taller boy sagging against him when he’s completely spent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“You okay, Wil?” Schlatt curls his arms around him protectively, kissing a dark hickey where shoulder and neck meet. Wilbur can only give a soft whine in response. “Hold on -” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Schlatt unmutes the mic for a final time. “Hi chat! Your favorite streamer here, telling you all that Wilbur literally just burnt himself like the fucking idiot he is, and that I’ll be the one taking care of him for the night. Also, subscribe to Jschlatt.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>He ends the stream there, awkwardly coming out the chair and lifting Wilbur up. By no means is he light, but thankfully his bed is nearby so he can drop his body onto something soft. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Did you </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> to tell my chat that?” Wilbur glares at him, but there’s no real evil behind it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“What can I say? I’m not going to turn down free promotion.” Schlatt states. </span>
</p><p>
  <span></span><br/>
<span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Wilbur can only laugh, not missing the way Schlatt’s face stares at him in awe when he does.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>carrd.co:<br/><a href="https://sirinpride.carrd.co/">sirinpride</a> &amp;</p><p>requests are open  - kudos and comments are really appreciated!!!</p><p>twitter - <a href="https://twitter.com/homiesexualmcyt">@homiesexualmcyt</a></p><p>curiouscat - <a href="https://curiouscat.me/homiesexualmcyt/">@homiesexualmcyt</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>sorry this took so long, got roadblock + this chapter was literally schlattbur + carson interacting, but since he’s a fucking groomer i had to delete the entire chapter and figure out a whole new direction for this lady irene why do you do this to me so its v short</p><p>SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME PLACES TO VISIT IN THE UK I NEED THEM</p><p>also next chapter is longer i promise 2k21</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The next morning, he only takes a glance at his twitter feed, chuckling at all of his fans who are excited over their meetup. Minx’s definitely surprised as well, tweeting at them both and asking when the three of them could possibly meet up together. Wilbur responds with a simple </span>
  <em>
    <span>soon</span>
  </em>
  <span> and shuts off his phone, noticing that Schlatt’s still asleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>He takes a moment to observe the sleeping man besides him, eyelashes and hair illuminated by the rising sun. Wilbur carefully lifts up his hand to trace that sharp jawline, his smooth shaven face, wondrous pretty pink lips. Tilting his head down, he presses a soft kiss upon Schlatt’s own lips, giggling to himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Putting a whole new meaning to the nickname ‘pretty princess’, huh? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he doesn’t awaken, Wilbur decides to steal yet another kiss for himself, tilting his head to the perfect angle to kiss him much harder this time. Pulling back, he watches as his friend's eyes flutter open, looking around his bedroom in confusion. Schlatt’s takes one look at Wilbur’s dopey smile, and he instantly relaxes, memories of last night flooding back into his head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“‘Morning.” He mumbles out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Good morning Schlatt.” Wilbur cheerfully replies. “I hope you had a good sleep.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Mhm. And ‘m gonna go back t’ sleep.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re going back to sleep? After all the effort I made to wake you up?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I don’t see any pots or pans anywhere.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Wilbur grins at the good ol’ vine reference. “I kissed you awake, princess.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now that definitely gets Schlatt wide awake, sitting upright quickly and looking down at Wilbur in shock. “You - you did </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I kissed you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“You kissed me!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“...well, yes?” Wilbur tilts his head in confusion, propping himself onto an elbow. “I’m confused. What’s wrong with a kiss?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“No no no - there’s nothing wrong with kisses. But you kissed me!” Schlatt repeats like a broken record.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>The musician wonders if Schlatt is having some form of kiss-phobia. Was that even a thing? “We’ve been through that point already.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Wilbur - it’s the fact that you kissed me that isn’t registering in your head!” Schlatt squawks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Well, you’re quite hard to resist.” He shrugs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A faint blush appears on Schlatt’s face, and he burrows his face into his hands. “Wilbur.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Hm?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>The businessman drags his hands down his face, sighing very deeply for a moment. He turns to look at his friend - boyfriend? fuck buddy? - dead in the eye. “Kissing is off limits, understood?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What? Why? You didn’t seem to care when you made all of these marks on me-” Wilbur takes off his red sweatshirt, revealing dark purple hickeys and bite marks littered upon pale skin. He tilts back his neck to show off more branding marks. “I don’t have any foundation to cover this up!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Schlatt has the audacity to smirk, eyeing his beautiful art on Wilbur’s body. “Who says you have to cover it up?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Well, I don’t want people asking questions about my sex life in chat, nor’ do I want a bunch of children wondering who I’ve been hooking up with.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Valid.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“That doesn’t answer why I can’t kiss you, though.” Wilbur slides out of bed, stretching his arms behind his back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just… don’t, okay?” Schlatt states. “It’s forbidden.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Alright.” Wilbur leaves it at that, not wanting to push it any further. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>schlatt you’ve been reading schlattbur just admit it your tweet was so sus what the fuck dO YOU MEAN -</p><p>another short chapter bc i have a lot of stuff going in my life lately + the exploring chapter is going to be - long. very long.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Breakfast is peaceful between the two, Wilbur humming along to a song Schlatt doesn’t know as he cooks eggs on the stove. The musician insisted that he’d make breakfast for their first day together, suggesting that they could head out for lunch later that day. It’s Schlatt’s turn to check his twitter, and his notifications have been completely broken by the excited fans over their meetup. Even his own friends have been repeatedly spamming him over discord, interested to know every little detail since they weren’t in on this meetup.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He tells everyone that he’ll fill in the details later, maybe a livestream if they were comfortable enough to do so. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Checking twitter?” Wilbur questions, as he pulls out sasguages from the fridge. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, they’re practically on their knees begging for some sort of update.” Schlatt replies. “Kinda funny really, watching all these Wilbur and Schlatt themed twitter users interact with each other.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Well, everyone loves a good crossover.” He hums, placing the cooked eggs onto Schlatt’s plate. He hasn’t taken a bite yet, but it smells heavenly. “How would you like your beans?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Schlatt looks as if he’s lost his mind. “Beans? Wilbur, what sane human eats beans for breakfast?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Less than whatever bland American cereal you’ve gotten yourself hooked on, that’s for sure.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Hey, don’t insult Oreos just because they’ve got a good cereal going for them too.” Schlatt remarks. “No normal American is going to eat actual beans for breakfast!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Well, you aren't exactly in America anymore, are you?” Wilbur says. “Are you upset because you won’t be able to eat your hamburgers and hot dogs and shoot guns while you’re at it?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You literally just took the typical American Republician stereotype and applied it to me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Don’t you act like the typical American Republician stereotype frequently?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Schlatt grins. “Touche.” </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wilbur doesn’t take long to finish the rest of a good ol’ British breakfast, plating the food and sliding it over to the American. Schlatt murmurs a thank you in reply, looking down at the amount of food he’s been given. He decides to stick a fork into the sausage first, taking a cautious bite. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hums in satisfaction. “This - this is actually good. It’s better than whatever black market meat Ted used to make his sausages - have you seen the monstrosities he’s created? I can never look at a cheesecake the same.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Oh come on, it can’t be that bad.” The musician grabs a spoonful of beans, waving it in front of the businessman. “Here, try this.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Schlatt does what he’s told, the hot spice of the bean filling his mouth. “Damn, Wil. For someone who lacks taste buds you can cook well.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“I mean, when I used to live with the other Soothouse members, we would have to rotate who cooks throughout the week -” He’s cut off with a sudden, harsh pounding on his door. The two of them jump in shock, and Wilbur raises an eyebrow in the direction of the front door. “Who could be at my door this hour? David isn’t visiting until tomorrow…” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Schlatt begins to dig into his breakfast as Wilbur answers the door, attempting to mind his own business. But he can’t, really, when he can hear Wilbur and another voice conversate loudly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aw, Wilbur…” The mysterious voice replies. “Is that really how you treat an old friend?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We aren’t friends. We’ve never been friends.” Wilbur remarks. “I’m busy at the moment, I’d suggest you take your leave.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come on! I didn’t drive two hours for nothing. I even picked you up flowers - sunflowers, they're your favorite. Matches that iconic yellow sweater you always wear during your streams.” The sound of plastic being grabbed was heard. “Damn, William, there’s no need to be so aggressive.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“I have every right to hate you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“And yet, you kept coming right back to me. But one day it stopped, and I’m curious to find out why. You were like my sweet, little puppy trailing behind me so obediently -”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t touch me!” Wilbur shouts, and Schlatt jumps out of his seat the next second. He appears right behind Wilbur, sliding an arm around his waist and glaring at the man standing in front of him defiantly. The said guy is an inch shorter than he is, dressed in a black suit with his hair slicked back - the perfect image of an asshole. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The asshole looks at Schlatt for a moment, before flashing him a grin and holding out his hand. “And who might you be?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“I’m Wilbur’s friend.” Schlatt doesn’t go for the handshake. “Who the fuck are you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“The name’s Jared. I’m a very close friend to Wilbur.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“I can see.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wilbur sighs, tossing the flowers into the small container holding two umbrellas besides the door. “Can we just talk later? Please?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Alright, alright. You better call, I’m just saying. You know how I hate being left on read.” Jared takes another look at Schlatt, cheshire grin on his face. “He’s a great lay, isn’t he?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wilbur slams the door in Jared’s face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Schlatt clears his throat. “So uh-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“I’m sorry about that.” Wilbur laughs nervously. “I never expected him to show up, out of all the days today. He’s a complete wanker like that.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No worries, Wil.” He says, yet he’s looking at him worriedly. “Is he - is he hurting you or anything?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“I uh -” Wilbur crosses his arms. “I’m not comfortable talking about it right now.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We don’t have to right now if you don’t want to.” Schlatt states. “As long as you’re safe, I’m okay. Now come on, weren’t you busy feeding me breakfast?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span></span><br/>

  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>That seems to make the musician giggle, rolling his eyes. “Every day you become more like a child.” </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>join my discord - <a href="https://discord.gg/FHAsBZ6raF">discord</a></p><p>carrd.co:<br/><a href="https://sirinpride.carrd.co/">sirinpride</a> &amp;<br/>twitter - <a href="https://twitter.com/homiesexualmcyt">@homiesexualmcyt</a><br/>curiouscat - <a href="https://curiouscat.me/homiesexualmcyt/">@homiesexualmcyt</a></p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>carrd.co:<br/><a href="https://sirinpride.carrd.co/">sirinpride</a> &amp;</p><p>requests are open  - kudos and comments are really appreciated!!!</p><p>twitter (please talk to me I am lonely) - <a href="https://twitter.com/homiesexualmcyt">@homiesexualmcyt</a></p><p>curiouscat - <a href="https://curiouscat.me/homiesexualmcyt/">@homiesexualmcyt</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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